Russian Ballet has Heart
by landLadynotyrhouseKeeper
Summary: Natasha one shots, drabbles, some have 2 parts. Pairings are with Steve/Captain America, Bucky/Winter solider or Clint/Hawkeye. Most my one shots are Clintasha though. Most of them are also depressing and end in sadness. Fluff, occasional smut, lots of depression. I take requests that's where all these come from anyway. I try to add something every few weeks.
1. No One (Widow Winter)

No One

_On shot Bucky x Natasha, post Winter Solider_

No one could love someone so broken

No one could fall for someone so dead

No one could lust after someone one so hideous

No one could dream about a nightmare so dark.

But you're not no one.

The winter solider sat on her stark white couch, his black clothes and hair a deep contrast, watching TV. He really wasn't watching it, more like glaring. In fact his eyes weren't even focused on the show. Natasha sighed from her arm chair where she was reading. He was sitting so rigged, his fists clenched. Sometimes Bucky would be thrown into this mental state where he was remembering or reliving a part of his life he had forgotten. He would be sucked into another world and completely forget the one he was in. after his memories pass he would come to panty and near crying. Only once had Nat seen him smile after he came out of one of his trances. But judging by the look in his eyes today would not be a smiling day.

She knew he wouldn't hear her is she spoke, when he goes to see Doctor Banner he tells him what happens in the trances. Banner tells him every time it happens that she is there talking to him. Bucky would say he felt things but couldn't hear. Nat learned the only way to sooth him is to hold his hand like a child. No matter how much she yelled at him to fight, he would never hear her and he would go down.

She rose from her chair, marking her book then setting it down next to her gun. She sat down on the couch next to him tucking her legs under herself. She rested her head on his shoulder and gently kissed the skin a few times. She held his hand rubbing her thumb over his scared knuckles from punching Steve's face in. she cherished each one of his scars as he did hers. Ever since he had moved in with her, as friends, they had become closer. They shared secrets, scars. Eventually they shared more than words.

She kissed his cheek, hoping he would remember her even in his darkest memories. Not a moment later he came to. He fell back against the couch panting aggressively, his limbs shaking. He scooted down the couch away from Natasha blinking furiously as if he was seeing for the first time. She knew whatever he saw must have been one of his worse memories. They had tortured him countless times when he was held by Hydra everyday she watched him relive those moments. He had killed countless people under the spell cast by Hydra, he blamed himself every day. She reached for him but he cringed away. She would have none of this. She pushed her palms on his chest pushing him down onto the cushions. She then swung a leg over his hip and straddled him. Her finger moved from his chest to his face.

She gripped his face in her hands as she looked down upon him, "I don't care what happened then, all I care about is now."

Bucky's eyes were brimmed with tears.

He reached up and cupped her face in his hands, "Nat I… I." he didn't know quite how to say things to her. Every day he struggled in ways to communicate with people, but mostly with Natasha. She made him speechless.

She turned her head and kissed his palm, "I love you." She looked deep into his eyes and she knew he felt the same. Ever since they first kissed she had felt her heart burst with love for this damaged man. Now she knew it was love and not some other emotion, she loved Bucky Barnes.

His arms slithered around her back he tugged her down on his chest. His lips found her neck as he kissed lightly. "No one could love someone so broken," he murmured in to her skin.

"No one could fall for someone so dead," he placed a tender kiss under her jaw, he tasted salt on his tongue.

"No one could lust after someone one so hideous," he whispered into her ear as a hand slid down her back and clutched her bottom.

"No one could dream about a nightmare so dark," he said huskily, placing another kiss on her bare shoulder.

He removed his face from her neck to see her crying. He wiped away the tears tracing his wet thumb over her lip, "But you're not no one."


	2. Nothing Lasts Forever (Clintasha)

**nothing lasts forever**

_A Clintasha one shot based off the Avengers AUO trailer_

The heli-carrier had gone down. Clint didn't know how it was infiltrated. All he knew was Natasha had been standing right next to him as they felt gravity pulling them down. They had looked each other in the eye as sirens went off. Natasha's eyes were glinting at the time. Everyone had gone through hell the last few days but not as much as her. After everything she had done the past week she desperately wanted it to be over.

Barton saw that look in her eye; he knew it all too well. Before he could say anything a hole was blown in the ship and Hawkeye went flying out. He fell to the ground landing in a rather large snow drift breaking his fall. It knocked him out none the less.

He woke hours later covered in snow with ash falling around him. The only reason he hadn't frozen to death is because he had never changed out of his winter clothing when he stepped on the carrier. Now he was thankful for that. But he remembered the small amount of clothes on Natasha, she wouldn't last long.

He sat up and looked around for his quiver and bow. They rested in the snow only a few feet away, most of his arrows were broken. He tapped his ear piece but there was nothing but silence. He was alone in the frozen tundra. There were small black smoke clouds in the air that meant the crash was a few miles away. It mattered not. He had to find Natasha.

He slung his quiver over his back and began walking a perimeter around the crash. If she fell out too she would be about the same distance away. But if she hadn't fallen out…no. he wouldn't allow himself to think of that.

He walked for hours, his waterproof boots on their breaking point of staying that way. His lungs were heavy, the ash was falling. Some trees were charred from falling wreckage but he wouldn't find anyone. It was all too eerily he rose to the top of another knee deep snowy hill he spotted a burning part of the hull. Not too far away laid a body.

"Natasha!" he shouted as he bounded down the hill his limbs and lungs protesting. As he approached he saw it was in fact her. She was lying on her back in the snow her jacket clutched about her. She was shivering and bleeding from to many places. The fires warmth barely reached her, just barely keeping her on the line of life.

Her eyes veered from the sky to the man running at her. She loved his face when he was like this, so scared and fearless at the same time. His lips straight his brow furrowed, he looked like he would kill. If she was in any other situation she would have found him hot.

He threw his bow aside and fell to his knees next to her. Her shoulder was cut and bleeding, a small trickle of blood came from her nose; her side was coated in blood too. Her skin matched her hair. He knew it would end soon. There wasn't any possible way she could survive this. He wanted to cry but he had to stay strong for her.

He slipped his hands under her still warm figure and held her to his chest. He had loved Natasha all his life, ever since he met her, ever since Budapest. His one hand rested on her neck supporting her head his other arm wrapped around her waist.

He looked at her with such adoration. It was a surprise that Natasha never knew how he felt about her. Steve knew how he felt. He had always daunted Clint about how it felt to kiss her.

She reached up and touched his forehead smoothing out the worry lines. "You ever going to kiss me Barton?" she asked coughing slightly. She was smiling, even in the face of death.

If she wasn't dying he would have swept her up and away, kissing her furiously. But not this time. Barton leaned down and pressed his lips to her frozen ones. Soft skin on chapped. It was everything he had imagined. As he withdrew from the kiss he murmured words he had wanted to say for a very long time, "I will love you forever."

"Nothing lasts forever." She said, her breath wheezing. Clint stroked her face as her own palm rested on his jaw. One tear slipped down his face. That one tear landed on her chest, just above the heart.

She smiled slightly before her eyes started to close and her hand dropped.

Clint said nothing. No shouts of anger no final words. He just clutched her lifeless body to his, relishing in the memories they once shared. He mourned silently for a while until he felt his muscles quivering in the cold.

He stood and held her bridle style and began the long journey to the crashed carrier where the survivors were supposed to be, that's S.H.I.E.L.D protocol. He walked the few miles hating himself for not saving her for not loving her like she should have been loved. He spent those never ending miles mourning while her body slowly grew cold. The whole while he could only here those words she had muttered, _"Nothing lasts forever."_


	3. Help is not Wanted Here (Clintasha)

(feelin nice today, here you go. 3 days in a row people, yall wont get nothin from me for a long time. enjoy)

I Need You

_A one shot of Clintasha, post Winter Soldier_

He had showed up on her doorstep late at night. He shouldn't be here but he felt like he had to be. She hadn't been the same since the DC attack. She grew distant and it just wasn't her. Clint hadn't seen her in a few days, in fact no one had. So here he was outside her apartment.

He knocked on the wooden door hoping she would answer. He knew she was here. The smell of gun powder could be hinted coming from inside. No doubt she was crafting her own bullets for her precious gun.

Sure enough she answered. Her shoulder length hair tied back. She wore a simple grew turtle neck over blue jeans. Outside of her office attire she dressed so plan. But her secret plainness was what made her beautiful.

"What are you doing here?" she leaned on the half closed door a sign she wasn't open to letting him in. Clint felt like something was off.

"Just checking to see if you're okay." He said trying to look behind her.

"I'm fine." Was all she said before she started to close the door. He shoved his foot in the jam not letting her shut him out.

"Clearly you're not Nat," he looked straight into her eyes, "Something changed."

"We all change." She said throwing the door open and walking into her apartment. Clint followed her into the back room where she stashed all her tools and weapons. As he followed her down the hall past the kitchen he saw the bottles of pills resting on her counter, the orange a strong contrast to her white and black table tops.

He stopped walking and stared at them. There were 5 different bottles with all different names on the sides and pills inside. In the months since DC she had fallen. She had fallen into a dark abyss that he remembered dragging her out of once before many, many years ago.

He turned to look at Natasha and his heart broke. She was standing a few feet away hugging herself with her hands clutching at her shoulders. Her face was dejected, her lips quivering.

Immediately Barton walked up to her and started rubbing her arms, "You could have called me." His own voice was sad. He felt horrible for letting her down.

"Didn't want to disrupt your vacation with your fiancé," She spat at him.

"Come on Nat, you know I would have left in heart beat." He spoke softly hoping he could somehow fix this. Maybe if he stayed around longer, went on more missions with her, spent less time with his girlfriend and more time with his friend.

"Well I didn't need you." She said through clenched teeth. He knew this look in her eye. He know what was coming.

He watched a silent tear creep down her face, "You know if you just…"

Her voice cracked, "Just what, Barton?"

"Asked for help you wouldn't be hurt so much."

"Ask for help?" She laughed bitterly and wrenched herself from his grip, "Ask. For. Help?" she cried out each word. "I spent years of my life screaming for help and none came." By now tears were streaming down her face, her voice broken with sobs. "I learned to be independent so I wouldn't need help." She hissed.

Clint knew what this was about. Her mission in DC must have stirred some past memories and emotions and now they were consuming her from the inside out. This would kill her if he didn't help her, "God Nat that's not-"

"Get the hell out of my apartment." She sobbed. She turned and started storming down the hall.

"No! I want to help you!" he shouted following her.

"I don't need to be helped!" she sobbed loudly randomly opening cabinets and pulling out tools. She threw down a magazine and a screw driver onto the giant work table in the room. Clint's eyes wandered over to the giant canvas painting of Paris where he knew all the guns were. Behind that canvas there lye many types of guns with different types of killing. Several if not all were suitable for a head wound. She was surrounded with things that could end her life. Barton had to stop her once before and he would again. He felt like the end was near for her. She was slipping to fast this time.

He walked over to her and embraced her, she squirmed but he tightened his hold. He knew she could easily get out of his hold if she really wanted to. "You need help, you need to be loved, you need to forget, you need to cry, you need to let go, you need a friend."

She stopped struggling and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She pressed her face into his chest and cried. They stood like this for a long time. Him holding her as she sobbed. He stroked her back in a soothing matter making promises to fight with her. he would never let her suffer like this alone. He had made that promise years ago. He made her swear to call him if she ever felt like this again.

Things quieted down but they still stood there just swaying side to side. "I need you," She said quietly into his tear stained shirt. That was her way of asking for help. Many years ago when she had been sitting in her car and he had found her just sitting there motionless she had muttered those 3 words. From then on that was their unspoken way of asking for help. Even on mission when she was out numbered she callout I need you and he would answer.

He placed a tender kiss on her head, "Then I will be here."


	4. How About a Drink prt 1 Clintasha

How About a Drimk?

_Part 1: Clintasha _

"Hey, can we go to a bar after this." It had been two days and Clint was nothing but giddy. They were in Russia, he loved Russia, ever mission he had ever taken there was so demanding and rewarding. This time he got to have Natasha with him, his longtime crush.

"No." Natasha was the opposite of Clint. She hated Russia, it had to many memories. The only reason she took these damned operations was because not many had inside knowledge of the country, nor the ability to speak its many languages.

Natasha hugged her black fur coat tighter around her black dress clad body. It was a cold night for an assignation mission. It was Nat's job to get the information; Clint's to kill the guy. Nat could have done both but Nick instead he come along.

Clint had done nothing the last few days but beg her to take him to all these places. She had spent her time wallowing away in their hotel room cleaning the weapons till they were spotless. Now it was time to complete the mission.

"Come one please. I saw this cool bar in town yesterday." Clint was walking with an arm around Natasha's waist giving everyone the appearance that they were an ordinary couple going out to a party. Clint he was just dancing inside at the minimal contact he was allowed.

"I said no Barton." Natasha didn't want to be over the border of this country any longer then need be. As soon as the body is dead, she was hopping on a helicopter and booking it out of there.

Barton looked at his field partner with a scowl. He hatted how she could be such a mood ruiner sometimes. "What jumped up your ass?" he growled.

She huffed in disapproval. This was not going to be a good night for her. The only reason she needed Clint here was so that she could get in the door. Need a date to get in, per instructions. Thus Barton trailing behind her. It was a formal event, very formal. Clint wore a suit and bowtie matching Natasha and her long backless black dress. They wore expensive looking cuff links and jewelry to make themselves look like everyone else. Romanoff was stumbling around in heels that almost made her taller than Clint. She had done her hair and makeup I the hotel. The whole prep time was filled with chided remarks from Barton. Not enjoyable on one party's behalf. Once ready they began walking with weapons hidden under skirts and behind shirts. They could look the part but could they act it? The plan was for Clint to have a sore throat or recently had surgery. He didn't know a lick of Russian, so Nat would do all the talking.

Phase two was to get the guy out of the party and into Natasha's bed. Once there, drug him, get information then drop the knife on the chopping block. Clint didn't like the idea of her luring guys into her bed on missions. He knew she did it all the time, what he didn't know was how far she had actually gotten with them once they were in her bed, before she would tie them up and rip their secrets from their guts. Other than the womanizer part of the mission, Barton was eating this weekend up.

He had spent the days in the woods, perched in trees observing the strange wildlife. Deer and elk unlike anything he had ever seen. There were wolves and bears too. He made a reminder to take Cap hunting up in the mountains if they ever got the chance. Clint had even visited a museum. He couldn't read anything in it but the art was beautiful. He thought it would all be much more fun if Natasha had come with him. She could snigger at some of the Russian descriptions. Barton would ask what's so funny and she would never tell him. She would probably go on to daunt him about it the whole weekend saying, 'I can't believe that's what he was thinking when he drew that.' Barton would go on never knowing and not really caring, just as long as she was happy.

He could tell by how stiff she was in his arms right now she was as far from happy as possible. He wondered why. If he asked it's probably something else she would never tell him. Except this time he would care. Clint's crush for Nat has never gone away. He may have occasional one night stands but he would only ever think of_ her_.

Suddenly her posture and face changed. They were there, time to act it up. They spent the next five minutes pretending to be newlyweds attending the politician's party. No one would catch their secret glares of death at each other hidden beneath their 'love.' However when Natasha looking in Clint's eyes she saw something real and it almost made her blush. She had known for a while he had liked her. She had never returned his feelings because she never considered having time with guys. Sure he was cute but she had no heart stopping attraction to him.

They worked their way through the crowd making small talk or no talk to get to the larger party. There he was, a thin man with dark hair tied back and a small beard. He looked scrawny and menacing at once. To think this man held some of Russia's most protected secrets was laughable.

"Darling, I'm off to the ladies room," That was his cue and her leave. Nat made a fake smile and kissed his cheek before darting off, leaving him along with a full champagne fluke. He flung his head back and downed it. Now it was his turn to go into action. As he left he turned on his ear piece by faking an itch. He placed the glass on a table and left through a side door making his way around the grand plaza to the back entrance. Once inside he shed his outer layer of his suit, beneath he wore his Hawkeye uniform. He slipped his quiver and collapsed bow from under his pants and slipped them on. Next he threw the parts of the suit in the trash and climb the maintenance stairs.

He heard nothing from his earpiece letting him now Nat wasn't in the room yet. He had time. He scurried along the walls looking for a large enough vent. Once he found one he slipped through following a map that led him to the vent in the room they had decided to use. He pulled out his bow and collapsed it into a cross bow but keep his gun and silencer by his side if his shot failed. Which it wouldn't, it never would, never has.

Within an hour Natasha's ear piece came on, it made no difference though all he would hear was Russian. Sixty seconds later the room door opened and she came in tugging the man behind her. She was faking drunkenness. She bent over laughing and let the front of her dress slip. Since she was pretending to be drunk, she pretended she didn't notice her boobs hanging out. Barton did, so did the target.

For a while Barton had to pretend he wasn't there, he didn't dare watch, he shut his ear piece of but that didn't help much. He now knew how far she went to get information. Did Nick know? Is that why he sends her?

Once it was over there was more talk in Russian. Then he heard his cue a cough. Without hesitation he pulled the trigger and the arrow shot through the vent and embedded itself in the back of the guy's neck.

He broke down the vent and barged into the room. Anger and other things were filling his chest. Most were hurt and sadness. He paced with his back to Natasha as she slipped her clothes back on.

"Do you… do you mind if we go get that drink?" she whispered softly hugging herself.

Barton let a small smile grace his lips as he grabbed her and crushed her to his chest. "That's exactly what I was thinking."


	5. How About a Drink prt 2 Clintasha

The cabby ride to the bar was silent and stiff as winter breath. Barton tried to keep a grip on his anger; Natasha was trying not to break down in front of her partner. Natasha had done these kinds of things on missions before; no one's ever been there, at least no one important. She felt as if this time it was different because Barton was there. Clint meant something to her. He was a friend, had been for a long time. She trusted him with her life and he was the only thing important in her life. Even if he didn't know it, he was the reason she lived every day.

These types of things were never considered rape. Natasha had always gone willingly, sometimes she needed a nudge, but she would do it anyway. She did things to get information that were considered corrupt, she did them willingly. Barton hatted being there to hear everything. She had been acting the whole time but he couldn't help but feel jealousy rearing its ugly head inside him. Not only that but he couldn't stop it. He was supposed to let it happen. If he decided to cut in and not let him bed her things would have gotten ugly. Barton felt as if he had witnessed his best friend's rape. But it wasn't.

They pulled up to the bar and Natasha shakily stepped out. Her chest was rising and falling with sharp breaths. She would not fall apart before Clint. She needed to be strong and show him it's okay and this is just another part of being an assassin. Barton placed his arm around her waist and he felt her shiver under his touch, either from disgust, pain, memory or something else he didn't know. He kept his grip on her though and pulled her into the almost vacant bar. They walked to the farthest stools away from the other patrons. Barton sat her down and took her coat. He saw her slightly quivering fingers as she signaled the bar tender, he saw the way her eyes darted everywhere and her other hand scratching her thigh through her dress. She regretted what she did. Barton regretted it too.

The bar tender approached a tiredness creeping under his eyes from working so late. He spoke Russian and Natasha answered back. She stuttered out a bunch of Russian in a quiet cracking voice. The tender's eyes seemed to soften as he nodded and walked away. Once his back was turned Natasha leaned her head n her forearm on the counter. Her red hair fanned over the counter exposing the back of her neck, where Barton saw a hickey. He clenched his fists in anger under the table.

"Natasha…" he placed a hand on her backless dress making small circles. Her skin was warm but he knew she felt cold. He didn't know what to say to her. He could yell at her and demand why. He could call furry and tell him they were skipping off the map again. He could tell her he loved her. Instead he settled for, "I'm sorry Nat."

She turned her head to the side and blew her hair off her face. She looked up at Barton from her sideways position and stared. What could he be sorry for? She saw something in his eyes, hurt. She knew he had a small crush on him; this must have killed him inside. Another reason she felt like this time was different. Her best friend would see her differently. They were adults but he would see her as the broken girl she was many years ago.

"It's just part of the job," she turned her head away from him, no longer wanting to see his eyes twinkle in pain.

"That sure as hell wasn't in the contract I signed," he growled out. The bar tender came back and placed five dark colored shots in front of Natasha and a large beer mug in front of Barton.

Barton quickly took a giant chug willing his nerves to calm down. Slowly and silently Nat downed all five of the shots before speaking. "Sometimes I have to do things to get what I want."

"That's the thing," Barton pour some of his beer into her shot glasses, "It's not what you want, it's what shield wants."

They both drank more. Then Barton felt like he had more to say. "I love you, you know, and I hate hearing about things like that as it is." He downed more beer knowing he was not going to shut up. "Now that I've been in the same room, seen and actually heard it, I never want you to go through that again."

Natasha was silently sitting there sipping her shot glass full of Barton's beer. Perhaps she was far too gone to comprehend what he was saying. Even he couldn't tell what he was saying anymore, so he went on.

"I mean, all those times you'd come back and spend days locked away. I get it now. I see what this does to you." He leaned over and brushed her hair away from her face and saw damp cheeks.

He silently cursed before continuing down this road, "there are other ways to get the info you need, I know it, you know it, shield knows it. But, they want you to take the easy route, he one that works fast and leaves a small trail of blood behind." Clint finally downed the last of his pint, "I saw fuck that."

Natasha giggled at his language. She signaled the bar tender over and he refilled her shots. She pushed two in front of Clint and he downed them quickly without a thought.

"Do you really love me?" she slurred out, slamming her last shot glass down. She though h was half joking. Her eyes found his and she saw the fondness in them, he was certainly not joking.

He placed his hands on either side of her face running his thumbs over her cheekbones, "Of course I do."

She gnawed her bottom lip thinking. He really cared for her; he felt pain at her pain. He really does love her. All those times he got angry at her for being reckless, or the moments he dotted after her when she got hurt. This is love, the love she wanted. She didn't want to be ruined anymore. She wanted Barton's love, to heal her. She was done.

She leaned in close and placed her hands on his thighs to steady herself. She brought her lips to his ear. "Then take me away," she whispered.

Clint knew what this meant. He pulled out his phone texted furry that the mission was done, files would be sent and they were going off the map for a while. He pulled out the battery and dropped the cell in the pint for good measure. They paid and left for the hotel. Both were drunk but still capable of packing. They destroyed everything shield or electronic related. Then they packed a bag with clothes, booked a flight under a fake ID and left Russia.

When they woke on the plane they were confused. They forgot where they booked the flight they were so drunk, but they didn't care. They were away and they could forget. Barton was happy, Natasha was happy.

The bars name was ~insert Russian translation of 'New start'~ which means, New Start.


End file.
